Quotes About Sensory

A carillon was pealing as they cruised soundlessly over a watercourse and through bowers; they were splashed in passing by hot droplets of sun.

My own love of books begins long before I start to read them. First of all, I am an incurable book-sniffer; when I open a new book I at once savour its scent, and I have had some odd looks from bookshop assistants in consequence...

Wine is the fastest way I know to a gourmet dinner.

When I glimpse the backs of women's knees I seem to hear the first movement of Beethoven's Pastoral Symphony.

Reality is an illusion caused by a lack of good beer.

Henry James would have been vastly improved as a novelist by a few whiffs of the Chicago stockyard.

it is better to taste of frost— the exquisite frost— than of wadding and of dead grass.

An idealist is one who, on noticing that a rose smells better than a cabbage, concludes that it will also make better soup.

An idealist is one who, on noticing that a rose smells better than a cabbage, concludes that it makes a better soup.

He sat down in a corner and ordered half a pound of dumplings, which came in a white bowl with a blue rim. While he was eating, his memory was further revived and sharpened by the familiar taste of the stuffing, made of pork, leeks, cabbage, dried shrimp, ginger, sesame oil. Every bit of the memory became unmistakable now.

The greatest gift of the garden is the restoration of the five senses.

What the eyes see and the ears hear the mind believes

Love: a burnt match skating in a urinal.

When I write about a 15-year old, I jump, I return to the days when I was that age. It's like a time machine. I can remember everything. I can feel the wind. I can smell the air. Very actually. Very vividly.

It seems like everything that we see perceived in the brain before we actually use our own eyes, that everything we see is coming through computers or machines and then is being input in our brain cells. So that really worries me.

A person does not hear sound only through the ears; he hears sound through every pore of the body. It permeates the entire being, and according to its particular influence, either slows or quickens the rhythm of the blood circulation; it either awakens or soothes the nervous system

The sound of water is deep, its form is serpent-like, its color green, and it is best heard in the roaring of the sea. The sound of fire is high pitched, its form is curled, and its color is red. It is heard in the falling of the thunderbolt and in a volcanic eruption. The sound of air is wavering, its form zigzag, and its color blue. Its voice is heard in storms, when the wind blows, and in the whisper of the morning breeze.

Sometimes when you are standing still and it's snowing, you think that you hear music. You can't tell where it's coming from either. I wondered if we all really did have a soundtrack, but we just get so used to it that we can't hear it anymore, the same way that we block out the sound of our own heartbeat.

Cranial neuralgia due to continuous stimulation of cutaneous nerves.

Lucid dreams often feel like this—as if you are observing yourself from a point over your shoulders-arm flexed, hands curving around the boom, breathing, in three dimensional silence.

More so than with any other instrument, the violin becomes part of the body. Good musicians are physically dissolved when playing, and for violinists, who cannot see where to place their fingers and have nothing to guide them through touch, music must be more than ever about memory than fingertips and breath; the ventage is deeper, more of the self, closer to singing.

Cerró los ojos y dejó que Eleanor siguiera. Aunque viviera mil años, no se cansaría nunca de que le tocara el pelo.

The pennycandystore beyond the El is where i first fell in love with unreality Jellybeans glowed in the semi-gloom of that september afternoon A cat upon the counter moved among the licorice sticks and tootsie rolls and Oh Boy Gum Outside the leaves were falling as they died A wind had blown away the sun A girl ran in Her hair was rainy Her breasts were breathless in the little room Outside the leaves were falling and they cried Too soon! too soon!

Do you have to feel something for it to be real or mean anything? Can you touch your dreams, taste your imagination.